


It's Not the Fall (It's the Sudden Stop at the End)

by SerenityStargazer



Series: Temptations [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Banishment, Caring Aziraphale (Good Omens), Christmas, Christmas Smut, Declarations Of Love, First Time, Frottage, Hurt Crowley, Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Kissing, M/M, Masturbation, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-18 12:49:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21711019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerenityStargazer/pseuds/SerenityStargazer
Summary: “Oh! So you’ll stay till January? That’s just tip top! I’m so glad you’re staying!” Aziraphale was rambling and he knew it, but he just couldn’t seem to get his mouth to stop babbling. “I was afraid you’d want to leave. And I would understand. But you’re staying! Everything’s just...tickety boo!” He finally made himself stop talking, but nothing could dim the brightness of his smile.“So I’ll take it that we’re still on for New Year’s then?” Crowley asked with a smirk, the ache in his belly fading away. Seeing his angel smile like that made everything seem better.“Oh, yes, dear boy!” Aziraphale said and leaned down, capturing Crowley’s lips with his own. Even such a happy, innocent kiss started the sparks flying between them. Those little sparks sent shivers down them both, and Crowley reached up to bring Aziraphale back down to the bed for some serious snogging.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Temptations [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1564789
Comments: 13
Kudos: 104





	1. The Run

**Author's Note:**

> This is a follow-up to "Aziraphale's First Temptation". Things will make more sense if you read that first.

Screams filled the night and smoke clouded his vision as Crowley double-checked to make sure the man he had tempted was leaving his party and guiding the small group of children to a cave not far from town. Well...the temptation was just to get him to desert. Why that man? Hell only knows. The tall, lanky demon was just doing his job. Saving the children was just an extra bonus because the Almighty might be alright with killing kids, but this particular demon was not. 

Ah. There he went, the kids huddled together and following. Right. Good. The raiders had hit just after nightfall, decimating the small Highland village. His assignment was done. A flip off to the Almighty by saving the children. Seemed like time for extraordinary amounts of alcohol. He had seen a small public house that might still have a cask or two. He could go grab a couple and then head to London. He wasn’t supposed to meet the angel for another few months, but Aziraphale wouldn’t mind if he came early bearing gifts.

The pub seemed empty when he slipped in, his grey linen shirt billowing out of his black leather kilt, smudged with ash and ripped from a narrowly-dodged arrow. His dark copper hair hung lank and sweaty around his shoulders and he had lost his glasses somewhere in the battle, leaving his yellow snake eyes open and exposed. He would have to stop off somewhere before he went to London and clean up. Not the sort of impression he wanted to make on the angel at all.

He grabbed two unopened casks of whatever the pub served and turned around just as the door slammed open. Crowley froze in place, hoping the shadows would hide him. A high, scared cry filled the silence; coming from the other corner of the room. The raider turned towards the sound and raised his polearm, ready to strike. A young girl huddled against the wall, sobbing in terror. The man grinned and drew back his weapon to end the girl’s life.

Without a thought, Crowley dropped the casks and leaped in front of the child. He snapped his fingers as he flew, and the man disappeared. The demon landed on the floor, feeling a punch of pain hit his gut. The girl ran and turned him on his back and the pain hit harder. Crowley reached out and grabbed the child’s hand and snapped his fingers again. “Aziraphale!” he cried and then everything went dark.

^o0o^

The oil lamp glowed a little brighter than most on the table where Aziraphale sat transcribing an ancient scroll into a parchment book. His white blond curls were a halo around his round face and he frowned in concentration as he dipped the quill into the inkwell. The evening was quiet and the fire was burning low, staving off the chill in the autumn air. 

Just before he set quill to parchment, there was a mighty WHOMP from the hearth. Startled, Aziraphale dropped the quill and stood to see what had happened. The sight froze him in horror for a moment, then sent him scurrying over quickly.

Crowley lay on his back, the long wooden end of the polearm sticking up like a signpost, pointing the way to the dark blood oozing around the metal barb. A small girl had been holding his hand, but backed away as the angel drew near. He spared her a glance, a small smile, and a “Do not fear, my dear. I’m going to help him.” Then he knelt to assess the damage.

He tried to wake his friend, but there was no response. The demon was pale and barely breathing. Not that he needed to breathe, but Aziraphale knew it was second nature to them both by this time and it was a very bad sign that Crowley wasn’t putting the energy into it. He could remove the weapon, but it would undoubtedly bleed a lot. He quickly got some linen cloths and a bowl of water, then returned to his friend’s side.

Looking at the girl, he explained as he worked. “I’m going to just make this terrible weapon disappear so I can fix his wound. I can’t see how bad it is until it is gone.” The girl pushed her long auburn hair away from her face and nodded. She turned away and looked into the fire, her thin arms wrapped around her waist to keep herself from trembling. She had seen enough wounded to know there was little hope for a man with such a terrible gut wound. Once the girl wasn’t looking, the angel miracled the demon’s shirt off, putting it to the side, mended and clean. Aziraphale turned back to Crowley, readied the cloths, and snapped, vanishing the polearm. Blood gushed from his gaping flesh, and the linens were quickly stained scarlet.

There was nothing else for it. Aziraphale was going to have to use a miracle to heal Crowley. He had no idea what divine energy would do to his demonic friend, but Crowley was definitely going to discorporate if he didn’t try. The angel removed the linen cloths, closed his eyes, and drew upon his heavenly power to close and heal the gaping hole.

The flesh started to knit back, but Crowley’s spine arched up and he screamed in pain as the holy power healed his body. All Aziraphale could do was hold his friend’s hand and watch anxiously. The screams continued until the healing reached the top layer of skin, leaving just a pink glow of new skin and a short scar line to show where the wound had been. Crowley slumped back, quiet and still. There was no motion to show whether the demon had survived or not. No breathing. No heartbeat. Aziraphale looked inside for a glimmer of the demon and found a small, feeble glow. He let out his own breath, unaware how long he had been holding it.

A tiny voice came from the wall. “Is he...is he...dead?” the girl asked quietly, her eyes shining with unshed tears. She didn’t know the valiant stranger, but knew he had taken the wound to spare her life.

“No, my dear. He’s still here, but barely. It could be a while before he recovers, but I will take good care of him.” Aziraphale walked over and sat on the floor near the child. “I am Aziraphale, and he is a friend of mine. My best friend, actually. His name is Crowley. And who might you be, my dear? And why did he bring you to me?”

“I’m Briennah. Raiders attacked us tonight. My da runs a pub, but he left to fight and I hid. Then I heard someone come in and I snuck out to see if it were Da, but it were yer friend. He didn’t see me. Then a raider came in and I was scared and started to cry. He was gonna kill me! But your friend jumped in the way. The raider just...disappeared. I went to your friend to check on him. He grabbed my hand and said your name...and then we were here. Are you a wizard? Is he? Where are we?” As she spoke, Briennah scooted closer to the fire, away from Aziraphale.

“Oh, dear! You have had quite the night! I’m so sorry, my dear. Why don’t you go sit by the fire and I’ll get you a cup of tea?” Aziraphale said quietly, doing his best to be reassuring. He got up and brought back a cup and a kettle, with a small box of tea leaves to brew.

He put the kettle over the fire and continued. “You, my dear, are now in London. Crowley and I are not wizards. Although what you have seen was a bit frightening, I assure you, we mean you no harm. Would you help me make a pile of blankets here in front of the fire for him to lie on? We’ll get him moved and comfortable and the water should be ready by the time we finish. I have a small bedroom that you can use as long as you want to stay. I’ll stay out here with Crowley and keep watch over him.” He smiled warmly at the girl and she smiled back. Aziraphale was very good at making people comfortable and Briennah happily helped him make a soft bed for the silent, still man.

She hoped the white haired man was right, but Crowley didn’t seem very alive to her. His chest never stirred, even when she held her breath as long as she could while watching him. Still, Aziraphale seemed pretty certain.

While they worked, Aziraphale added a small room to the back of his place. He put in a small bed, quilts, and a woven rug on the floor. There was a small chest with drawers by the bed with an oil lamp. He added a nightgown for her as well. It should be enough for the child for now. He himself almost never slept, so he had never needed a bedroom until now. He would stay and stand guard over his beloved hereditary enemy throughout the night and until Crowley was well again.

^o0o^

Aziraphale joined the child for tea and also buttered her a slice of bread. She was about eight years old, with long red hair and freckles dusting her cheeks. As they shared their meal, Briennah began to relax. She told Aziraphale that she was an only child. Her mother had died giving birth to her. Despite chatting happily with Aziraphale, she kept casting anxious glances at the completely still form in front of the fire.

“Don’t worry, Briennah,” Aziraphale soothed her. “I’m sure he’ll be much better by morning. It is getting late and you’ve had a most extraordinary day. I think it must be time for you to be getting to bed now. There’s a nightgown waiting for you on the bed. Go change and I’ll be in to tuck you up in just a few minutes.”

The girl went with one last long look at Crowley. Aziraphale couldn’t help but feel a bit worried himself. Crowley slept often and long, but he had never seen the demon go so long without breathing. He’d pray, but he wasn’t sure how the Almighty felt about healing demons in the first place. They were technically on the Other Side, but...they had been angels once, long ago. And this particular demon was very dear to him. He stood with a sigh and went to Briennah’s room.

She was sitting on the bed under the covers, waiting for him. He watched as she lie down, then carefully tucked her in snug. Smoothing her hair, he softly sang a lullaby and the girl smiled and drifted off. Aziraphale then told her a quiet story he had made up, lacing it with a little angelic power to make it stick.

“Crowley is your uncle...your father’s brother. Your father had asked him to take you to safety, but the raiders came sooner than he expected. In his attempt to get you out, Uncle Crowley was badly wounded. He told you to take him to London and look for his friend Aziraphale. It was a long, hard journey, especially with Crowley so hurt, but kind people helped you along the way. You finally made it here and Aziraphale used his healing skills to help Uncle Crowley. He is still weak and will need a lot of sleep, but he will survive.”

Aziraphale kissed the child on her forehead and put out the oil lamp. Hopefully, the story would take in her tired mind and the real details would be lost in sleep. He shut her door and turned to his friend in front of the fire.

Sitting down on the floor next to him, Aziraphale put his hand on Crowley’s chest and held his own breath. Nothing. Not a breath, not a heartbeat. But when he felt for that spark inside, the glimmer was still there; faint, but persistent.

The angel sat and pondered. Holy power was obviously not the answer. Any more shock to his friend’s corporation would completely undo him at this point. What else could he try? He had an idea, but wasn’t sure it would do any good. Well, at least it wouldn’t do any harm. And it would make Aziraphale feel better.

He snuggled down next to Crowley under the covers and just held him, sharing his warmth with his cold, still friend. Then he let his mind replay all the times they had spent together, starting at the Garden wall. He remembered Crawley’s first smile and the way the demon had made him laugh and feel better. They were supposed to be enemies, but Crawley had been far kinder than the angels in Heaven. When the first rain began, the demon shyly slid closer and Aziraphale had covered him with his wing without a moment's thought.

Then he thought about the time at the Ark and how lovely Crawley’s hair had looked with that braid in it. And he remembered the surprise and awe he had felt later when he had found the old serpent curled up around a group of children that were never meant to be saved. Was that when he first started to love Crowley? Might have been.

The first time he had seen Crowley in female form was at the crucifixion. That was when he had changed his name, too. He was surprised to learn that Crowley had been friends with Jesus, though he guessed it made sense. Hell had probably sent him to tempt the Christ and, in typical Crowley fashion, the demon had turned it into a kindness, showing him all the kingdoms of the world. Aziraphale smiled at his friend and brushed his riot of long copper waves back from his face.

Then there had been that night in Rome. They were both off the clock and Aziraphale was surprised to find he was delighted to hear Crowley’s voice. He had tried to strike up a casual conversation with the demon, but had made rather a mess of it. Despite his bungling efforts, Crowley had softened and smiled, and the angel had been smitten. He invited Crowley to have oysters with him, and to his surprised pleasure, the demon accepted. It was the first of many meals they shared together, and the memory made Aziraphale glow.

Then, most recently, there was that time in Wessex. Aziraphale had been serving as a knight to King Arthur and Crowley had been the fearsome Black Knight, fomenting discord. When Aziraphale had found him and recognized him, Crowley had proposed an arrangement where they just stayed home and pretended to do their tempting and foiling. They were just cancelling each other out anyway. Aziraphale was appalled and intrigued at the same time, but dutifully refused. Then the wily old thing had weaseled himself into court disguised as a Scottish lady, calling himself Merida! It had been an interesting couple of days together. Crowley could be most enchanting when he tried. And Aziraphale had been amazed to find himself jealous over the vexing creature. He had done his first temptation for Crowley then; tempting the king to abandon his duties for the day and go on a picnic instead. It had turned out quite well and that was the beginning of the Arrangement. The picnic had also given him time alone with Crowley, and they had admitted they had feelings for each other and shared some sweet kisses before they had to go their separate ways. The memories of those kisses had often warmed his lonely heart in the decades since he said goodbye to his demon on the road to London.

Gathering all the love and warmth he could from the memories, Aziraphale turned Crowley’s head and kissed him. He pushed all that love and warmth into the kiss, sending it towards that small, stubborn spark of life inside the still body of his beloved friend. Crowley’s lips seemed to warm under his, and Aziraphale felt hope surge up in his heart. He sent the hope after the love, making the kiss fierce and wild.

Crowley gasped, and Aziraphale broke the kiss. “Crowley?” he asked excitedly.

“‘Ziraphale?” the demon asked softly.

“Yes, dear. It’s me. I’m here,” the angel replied, his heart singing.

“Girl?” Crowley asked, his eyes opened a crack to look at his friend.

“Yes. You saved her, you silly old serpent. She’s safe here and asleep. Why didn’t you disappear the polearm instead of the man?”

“No time..to think. Just...did. Satan, that hurt!” the demon groaned and clutched at his stomach. “Still hurts. Why?”

“I had to use holy healing to stop the blood loss or you would have discorporated. All that divine power hurt worse than the weapon, I’m afraid,” the blond dropped his eyes and sadness flooded his face.

“S’okay, Angel. Better now, eh?”

“You had me worried. You hadn’t breathed and your heart hadn’t beat since I healed you hours ago," Aziraphale said softly.

“Whadda use to bring me back? Love’s true kiss?” the demon weakly joked.

Aziraphale’s face flamed and he looked away.

“Wot? Really?!!” Crowley laughed. “You kissed me back to life like a fairy tale princess?”

“Well, it worked didn’t it?” Aziraphale spat primly.

“I’m still feeling rather weak,” the demon said, sounding as pitiful as possible. “Might need a refresher kiss. Just to make sure.”

“A tempter even at your weakest, eh, foul fiend?” Aziraphale smiled. “Well. I never could resist you. Consider this a temptation accomplished.” And he leaned over to gently kiss Crowley again, thrilled to feel a response this time.

“Yep,” the demon said with satisfaction. “Still got it.”

Aziraphale chuckled, then his face went serious again. “I think you’re still going to need some rest, my dear. Take your time and get all the sleep you need. I’ll be here. Just….”

“Just what, Angel?”

“Just don’t sleep too long. New Year’s is only two months away and I’d enjoy celebrating it with you...awake.”

Crowley laughed. “‘S date, Angel. See you when I wake, you handsome prince, you.”

Aziraphale nudged his shoulder with a grin. “Sleep well, princess.”

The angel softly sang to Crowley, gently brushing his fingers through his hair, until the demon was asleep. Aziraphale laid there and held his friend close, thankful he hadn’t lost him. For a supposedly evil creature, the flame-haired demon certainly had a soft spot for children. When he was certain Crowley was fast asleep, Aziraphale wiggled out from the blankets and tucked them around the slumbering demon. He returned to the table, picked up his quill, and returned to his scroll, humming quietly to himself.


	2. The Leap

Awaking the next day, Briennah had been delighted to see her Uncle Crowley snoring peacefully by the fire. The story had done its job and Aziraphale amused himself by envisioning Crowley’s reaction to finding he had a niece when he finally woke up.

The weeks passed slowly. Although Briennah proved to be a good companion, Aziraphale couldn’t help missing Crowley. He missed the demon’s smirk and his playful banter. It was almost torture, having him so near; yet, unable to converse with him. Although many years had gone by since last they met, having the demon there, but silent, seemed worse.

It was almost six weeks before Crowley stirred again. During that time, Aziraphale had watched over him, keeping himself occupied with his daily routine. Each night, after the girl had gone to bed, Aziraphale would join Crowley. He would tell him the news of the day and sing to him softly. Aziraphale would stroke his hair and sometimes lie his head on Crowley’s shoulder, hoping he would wake and tease the angel for being so tender. Many times the demon would smile or turn to cuddle up with the angel, but he never awoke.

Briennah was a smart lass, and took quickly to learning to read and write under Aziraphale’s guidance. He told her stories, read her books, and quite enjoyed her presence in his home. When the girl came home from fetching water one chilly December afternoon and asked him if she might apprentice to the midwife, he was surprised to find himself saddened. He of course gave his consent, but asked if she might stay a day or two longer and he would try to rouse Crowley before she left. Briennah happily skipped off to tell the midwife she would join her at the start of the next week.

That night, Aziraphale laid down next to Crowley.

“Dearest,” he began, “I have some big news. Our dear Briennah will be leaving us in a few days. She will become an apprentice to the midwife and go live with her. It would be ever so nice if you could wake up and say goodbye to her. She has helped me watch over you every day. Even if she isn’t really your family, it is real to her.”

Crowley just muttered a bit in his sleep and turned on his side, his arm falling across Aziraphale’s chest and his leg wrapping around the angel’s hips. Aziraphale felt a blush grow as the demon rubbed against him, his arousal sending electric sparks through the angel’s soft skin. Aziraphale gently tried to disentangle himself, but Crowley just held tighter and snuggled his head against Aziraphale’s neck.

“‘Zira...angel...love you,” the demon’s voice whispered, thick with sleep. Aziraphale couldn’t help but smile at that, and planted a quick kiss on the demon’s forehead. It wasn't the same as hearing it from an awake, cognizant Crowley, but it warmed Aziraphale's heart and gave him hope. Crowley started rutting against him more earnestly and Aziraphale was dismayed to find his body responding in kind.

“Crowley!” he hissed, trying to get some distance from the demon’s demanding hips without waking him. In response, the demon rolled on top, pinning Aziraphale to the blankets. His eyes stayed closed, even as his hips ground his cock against Aziraphale’s. The angel’s eyes closed in pleasure and they both groaned at how good it felt. Aziraphale decided that maybe he didn’t want to get away after all. He gave a happy wiggle that produced some more of that heavenly friction. Then Crowley woke up enough to realize what he was doing.

Crowley quickly rolled off Aziraphale to the edge of the blankets, his back towards the angel.

“S-sorry, Angel,” he whispered. “Didn’t mean to….”

Aziraphale rolled after him. He grabbed Crowley without a word and flipped them both back to where they started; the angel on his back and the demon on top. Crowley gave a startled yip and his golden eyes flew wide as he stared down at Aziraphale.

“Come now, my dear, don’t look so surprised,” Aziraphale chuckled. “You are a wounded demon and I am a Principality. If I didn’t like what you were up to, I could have stopped things easily enough. But that did feel splendid and I would rather like to continue. If you’re up to it?”

Crowley’s eyes changed from surprise to wonder. “Really, Angel? You want to, too? With me?”

“Of course with you! Who else, you silly serpent? Now...get a wiggle on?” And Aziraphale bucked up against the demon, making his eyes roll up and the most delightful whimper escape from those sweet, red lips.

“Oh, Angel...what you do to me! I thought this was just a dream, but….”

“Aziraphale?” came a sleepy voice from behind them. “I thought I heard voices. Is everything alright?” 

Crowley instantly rolled back to his side of the blanket pile. Again. Who the hell else did Aziraphale have staying at his place? Then he remembered. The girl. His fault. Stupid kindness biting him in the arse again. He groaned in frustration.

“Uncle Crowley?! Are you awake?” Briennah hurried over excitedly.

“Um...yes, Briennah,” Aziraphale hurriedly sat up. “Your Uncle Crowley just woke up. Give him a few minutes to remember everything. He’s been out for over a month, and I’m sure he is rather confused.”

The girl sat down on the floor and gave the surprised demon a hug. “Oh, Uncle Crowley,” she cried, “I’m so glad you woke up before I left! Thank you for saving me! Aziraphale has been most kind and taken good care of me, just like you said he would.”

“Yes,” Crowley said dryly, looking over Briennah’s head at the angel, “I’m sure he did. But I do seem a bit groggy. Probably due to the spear and the sleeping and all. Remind me what all happened?”

Briennah sat up and happily recounted how her “uncle” had saved her from the raider and they had made their way to London where Aziraphale had healed him. Crowley stared daggers at Aziraphale, who suddenly found the blanket covering his lap to be of immense interest. The girl ended her story with the good news of her employment with the midwife.

“But, don’t worry, Uncle Crowley,” she finished. “I’ll come back and visit you and Aziraphale all the time. I won’t be too far away.”

“That’s just...great,” the demon choked out. “Glad you’re happy in your new home. Pity you have to go and leave Aziraphale and me all alone. Soon.” He waggled his eyebrows at the angel, who blushed a glorious shade of pink, pleasing Crowley to no end.

“Yes. Well. Lovely family reunion and all. Happy endings all around,” Aziraphale stumbled to find a way to wrap things up.

“I don’t recall having a ‘happy ending’,” the demon muttered under his breath. Aziraphale blushed again, but pretended he hadn't heard as he continued on.

“I think, Briennah, dear, that you’d best be getting back to bed. We have things to do in the morning to get you moved over to the midwife’s cottage by Monday. Wouldn’t do to be up all night and get a late start. Your uncle will still be here in the morning. You can catch up more then,” he said.

“Alright,” the girl said reluctantly. “See you in the morning, Uncle Crowley...Aziraphale.” Before she stood, she leaned over and kissed Crowley’s cheek. He froze for a moment, then allowed himself to smile at the child.

“Good night, Briennah,” he said softly. “I am glad you’re safe.”

“I’m glad you’re safe, too,” she whispered back, and brushed his red waves back from his face. Then she stood up and went back to her room, waving at them before she shut her door.

Crowley gave her a minute to get into bed, and then turned to face the angel.

“Uncle Crowley?!!” he whispered with venom.

“Yes, well, she thought you were a wizard!” Aziraphale whispered back. “So I made up a story that she and the others in town could accept and pushed it into her dreams that first night. Couldn’t have her telling the town that we can do magic, could I?”

“I guess not,” the demon admitted. “Still...how long will I have to pretend she’s kin?”

“I guess for as long as you plan to stay here. How long were you planning to stay? Here, with me, I mean,” Aziraphale found he was far more interested in the answer to this question than he had anticipated. They had never been together for more than a few days. The last six weeks were the longest they had ever been together. Would two more be too much for the demon? He found himself holding his breath, waiting for the demon’s reply.

“You invited me to come start the new century with you. So, till New Year's?" Crowley answered, anxiety building up and making his stomach hurt. What if the angel had forgotten? Maybe he had already overstayed his welcome. Maybe the angel was regretting what had happened that night. Should he just leave now?

“Oh! So you’ll stay till January? That’s just tip top! I’m so glad you’re staying!” Aziraphale was rambling and he knew it, but he just couldn’t seem to get his mouth to stop babbling. “I was afraid you’d want to leave. And I would understand. But you’re staying! Everything’s just...tickety boo!” He finally made himself stop talking, but nothing could dim the brightness of his smile.

“So I’ll take it that we’re still on for New Year’s then?” Crowley asked with a smirk, the ache in his belly fading away. Seeing his angel smile like that made everything seem better.

“Oh, yes, dear boy!” Aziraphale said and leaned down, capturing Crowley’s lips with his own. Even such a happy, innocent kiss started the sparks flying between them. Those little sparks sent shivers down them both, and Crowley reached up to bring Aziraphale back down to the bed for some serious snogging.

“You both know I can hear you talking, even if I can’t hear what you’re saying, right?” came a grumpy voice from the bedroom. “If you aren’t going to sleep, can I come back out?”

Aziraphale startled back up. “No, no, Briennah. Sorry we disturbed you. Go back to sleep and we’ll see you in the morning.”

“I don’t know about her career as a midwife,” Crowley muttered, “but she’s certainly an excellent cockblock!”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale was aghast. “Why don’t you go back to sleep, my dear, and I’ll go work on my transcriptions over at the table.”

“See?” the demon said mournfully. “Blocked. Completely blocked.”

^o0o^

Crowley slept till the early afternoon the next day. He had actually woken up earlier, but layed there in an internal panic about the night before. Had he actually rutted against the angel and not been smote? Smoted? Smitten? Whatever. Surely Aziraphale had been horrified and just acted like it was all right because he was still recovering. Kissing was one thing. But what his body had been driving for last night was far, far past that!

Would Aziraphale give him that sad, disappointed-in-you look? Would he hear the dreaded “we need to talk”? Or would the angel just pretend nothing had happened, as if he hadn’t been on board with the idea at the time? Ugh!! Better to just be asleep.

Aziraphale kept eyeing the demon as he went about his morning tasks. He knew Crowley was awake, but went along with his pretense of sleep. What was the handsome creature trying to avoid? Well, him, obviously. But...why?

It must be because of last night. Had he scared the demon with his show of strength? Or did Crowley regret the whole thing? Aziraphale knew Crowley enjoyed kissing him. But what if that's all he wanted? The other had happened while he was mostly asleep and not really in control of himself.

Aziraphale decided he would wait for his friend to bring it up. Emotions like love must be very difficult for occult creatures. He didn't want to push Crowley past where he felt comfortable.

The two of them circled uneasily around each other all that afternoon. Briennah chatted happily, oblivious to the tension between the two men. Crowley had the advantage, wearing a newly materialized pair of dark glasses, but Aziraphale still caught him staring several times throughout the day.

When Briennah asked Aziraphale to read to her before bedtime, he picked a scroll with a gleam in his eye. He settled the girl between himself and Crowley and started to read the tale of a beautiful princess, cursed to sleep until True Love's kiss awakened her. Crowley kept making sputtering noises and muttering under his breath, but Briennah was enchanted. When the prince finally fought through the brambles and the dragon to kiss awake his princess, the girl clapped in delight. Aziraphale smiled at Crowley over her head and blew him a kiss. Crowley glared over his glasses and rolled his eyes, but couldn't hide his grin.

After tucking Briennah in for the night, Aziraphale returned to his spot on the blankets near his demon. They watched the fire die down in companionable silence. Somehow in the quiet, the pair grew closer together, until they sat with their shoulders touching. With a soft sigh, Aziraphale dropped his head on Crowley's shoulder. The demon stiffened, but didn't move away.

"I'm glad you're staying," Aziraphale said softly.

"Yeah. Well. Just for New Year's, you understand. And there had best be extraordinary amounts of alcohol!"

"Oh, we don't have to wait for that, dear boy!" Aziraphale snapped and a cask with two glasses appeared on the blankets in front of them. "Though we need to keep it down so not to wake the child."

"What?" the demon asked with a smirk, "Do I look like a screamer?"

Aziraphale blushed, just like the demon was aiming for, but then looked square at Crowley and said, "Actually, my dear boy, I rather think you'll yowl like an alley cat in heat. Now drink this and hush!"

Aziraphale handed a glass of wine to the stuttering demon, who was still struggling to process. The angel watched in amusement as different thoughts fluttered across Crowley's face. Then he seemed to settle on what he wanted to say.

"'You'll'? As in "you will"? Not "you would"?

Aziraphale smiled serenely. "Well, not tonight, obviously. There is a child in the house. But, hopefully, sometime soon we'll test my theory. New Year's is in two weeks. Play your cards right and perhaps we'll find out."

Crowley drained his drink in one long gulp and silently held it out for a refill.

^o0o^

The angel was unexpectedly quiet on the walk back from the midwife's cottage. He had been doing fine until Briennah had given him a big hug and he had to brush the tears from her cheeks. Human children could be so very dear. Aziraphale knew it was dangerous to get too close. Their lives changed so quickly while his spun slowly out into eternity. One hazard of being humanity's guardian was not being able to stay in their lives for long.

"Whaddya thinking about, Angel?" Crowley finally asked, watching his friend fret and bite his lip. He was pretty sure he knew, but maybe it would help Aziraphale to talk about it.

"Remember the picnic we had with Arthur, Guinevere, and Lancelot?" Aziraphale asked quietly.

Well, that was not what he was expecting, but Crowley decided to play along and see what his angel was driving at.

"Of course I do. I quite distinctly remember sucking a bruise on your neck right about there." Crowley softly ran his finger across Aziraphale's jaw to the soft spot just under his ear. The angel shut his eyes and shuddered a bit, remembering Crowley's lips just there and the fire they had lit inside him.

He smiled softly at the eyes watching him carefully from behind the round dark glasses. "Yes," he whispered, "that was lovely. But I was thinking of the humans. Arthur worked so hard to spread peace. But Death took him and now the lands are roiling in turmoil as men fight over ownership of a harsh and desolate ground. Briennah lost her father and her home over a quarrel about possession. Death took her mother before she even knew her."

"What is the point, Crowley? If nothing remains and nothing gets better, what is the point?"

"Oi, Angel. Don't be asking those questions. Questions like that can get an angel in an awful lot of trouble. Best you just be accepting that it's...it's…."

"Ineffable?" the angel finished, biting his lip while his fingers clenched and worried at each other.

"Yeah. That. Besides, who knows. I've heard bards singing tales of King Arthur and his knights, battling for Truth and Honor and such. Perhaps it'll catch on and win a point for your Side."

"Oh, do you really think so?" Aziraphale's eyes looked up hopefully and a small smile started on his naturally cheerful face. Crowley would do a lot more than bend the truth and weave a tale to bring that light back to his angel.

"Could be," he replied with a grin. "Let me sing you one of the songs I heard while we head back to your place." He distracted the angel with his song and Aziraphale seemed back to his cheerful self by the time they reached his home.

Loathe as he was to admit it, the walk to the midwife’s and back had worn the demon out. He plopped down on the pile of blankets, happy to just lie there. Aziraphale sat down beside him, giving him a considering glance.

“You know, my dear,” he said, “with Briennah gone, you could take the bedroom. I know how you enjoy sleeping and I think your body still needs some extra rest to completely heal. And that way I won’t disturb you when I work late at night.”

"Trying to get me out of the way, Angel? I can leave if I'm too much bother." He said it jokingly, but Aziraphale could hear a faint thread of worry winding through the question.

"Ha!" Aziraphale scoffed. "Nice try, Worthy Adversary! But your wiles will not work against me." The angel smiled softly and stroked Crowley's cheek with the back of his hand, sending shivers all down the demon's body. Then Aziraphale frowned and looked stern. "I will not set you free to roam throughout London, tempting the good folk here and sending them down your slippery slope of sin."

"Going to keep my 'slippery slope' all to yourself then, Angel?" Crowley mocked with a grin.

Aziraphale blushed, but couldn't hold back a chuckle. "That's right, you vile creature! I shall keep you here, under my watch and pleasure until I deem it safe to release you back into the world. Say...some time in January?"

"Under your pleasure, eh?" The demon raised an eyebrow and his grin widened. "Welp, guess I'm thwarted for now. But you better watch me carefully, angel. Who knows what nefarious scheme I might be cooking up to tempt you?"

The two of them grinned at each other for a moment and then Crowley said, "Well, I guess you'd better show me this bedroom you're on about. Don't think I have the same decorating tastes as a wee lassie."

"Might need a longer bed, too," Aziraphale added.

"Maybe a wider one, too," Crowley said. "Just in case someone might want to join me some night. Or thwart me. I need a lot of thwarting."


	3. The Fall

As the next few days passed, the pair fell into an easy routine. Aziraphale spent most of his day working on his transcription. Crowley would roam the town, starting small mischiefs and looking for treats to bring the angel. Then he would come home, complain about the cold, curl up in front of the fire, and nap. When it got dark, Aziraphale would put down his quill and join Crowley in front of the fire. Crowley would feed Aziraphale whatever pastries he had deemed worthy of his angel, and Aziraphale would miracle some wine to go with it. They would laugh and tell tales of their adventures over the past sixty years.

As the fire died down and the wine bottles were emptied, the kissing would begin. Not really needing to breathe, the two could make one kiss go on and on until the overwhelming emotions caused them to draw back to catch themselves.

Sometimes when that happened, they would just hold each other, waiting for the sizzle to simmer back down. But holding each other was its own exquisite agony because their hands would start wandering as if on their own accord. The fire of Aziraphale's touch left Crowley burning beyond endurance.

Several nights later, after finally, reluctantly, retiring to his bedroom, Crowley re-lived the evening in his head with his hand on his cock and his other hand stifling his mouth so Aziraphale wouldn't hear. It was exquisite agony to be so close and touch so much, and then have to stop. But the angel remained adamant about waiting till New Year's. So Crowley continued his silent, desperate wanking.

He would have been surprised and undoubtedly pleased to know that Aziraphale was facing a similar problem of his own. Although he might joke about the demon's role as a Tempter, in truth, Crowley was Aziraphale's biggest temptation. If he wasn't careful, if would be easy enough to abandon his work in favor of watching the fire reflect on Crowley's magnificent eyes, turning them to molten gold. His kisses obsessed the angel, setting his skin aflame and leaving him a panting, needy mess. Quietly, so as not to awaken Crowley, Azirapahle undid his trousers and stroked himself while imagining it was Crowley’s long-fingered hand and warm, welcoming mouth. Swallowing his moans and flushed with need, the angel brought himself silently, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes as he waved away his spend and longed to snuggle Crowley into the crook of his neck and hold him all night long. Aziraphale regretted setting New Year's as the date he would finally say yes and willingly succumb to the roguish demon's charms. After so many millenia, how could nine days seem so long to wait? 

^o0o^

The next evening, as the fire died down, the fire between the two was raging. The kisses were long and wet and demanding. Breaths were reduced to quick pants before renewed lip assaults. Hands were entwined in pale curls, tugging urgently, while others were roaming under the grey linen shirt pulled from the waist of the kilt.

When nails left thin red lines from shoulder to waist, Crowley gasped and rolled off to lie panting on his back. He wrapped his arms around himself and tried to get some measure of control.

“I’m sorry, dear,” Aziraphale managed to get out. “Too rough?”

“N-n-no, Angel. S'good. Just...maybe too good if we’re still waiting till next week."

“Oh,” he replied weakly. “Yes. The waiting. Hard, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yes, Angel,” Crowley smirked and looked down at his tented kilt, “it’s very, very hard.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it, Fair Fiend! Although,...that, too,” Aziraphale admitted with a wry smile. He sat up and looked down at Crowley, all russets and gold and flame in the dying fire light.

“Angel?” Crowley asked softly, staring at the ceiling.

“Yes, my dear?”

“At night, after I go to bed, when you think of me...where are your hands?” The demon turned his head and stared into those stormy blue eyes, capturing Aziraphale with his intensity.

Aziraphale involuntarily glanced down at his lap, then blushed and stared at the glowing embers. “I, um...that is to say….”

Crowley chuckled. “S'okay, Angel. I get the idea. And...me, too. When I think of you, I mean. Fair warning, though. I don’t really feel the need to wait. That’s just for you. So if you hear things from my room later tonight, well...just know I’m thinking of you.”

Aziraphale almost gave in then. He knew he didn’t really want to wait, either. But he also wanted a special date to remember through the millennia....a marker to look back on and say, “Here. Here is where my life together with Crowley began.” He was a sentimental fool, he knew, but it was important to him.

So he said nothing, running his broad fingers through dark coppery strands and bending down to bestow the occasional kiss on Crowley’s cheek or forehead. As the embers lost their glow, Crowley stopped Aziraphale’s hand and kissed each knuckle gently. Then he turned the angel’s hand over and gave a long, slow lick from his fingers to his wrist.

“G’night, Angel,” he said with a wicked grin. “Think of me later, eh?” Aziraphale stared after him as Crowley sauntered off to his room, hips swaying in an invitation that took all of the angel’s control to refuse.

^o0o^

The next morning, Crowley awoke to smell something different in the air. It smelled like he was in the middle of a forest. Confused, he stretched and pulled on his shirt and kilt.

When he stepped into the main room, he stopped and stared in amazement. The shutters were closed and he could hear the wind howling and buffeting them outside. But the fire blazed and the room was glowing with a myriad of candles. Most were in metal containers with stars punched into their sides, casting tiny constellations along the walls. The mantel, shelves, and table were festooned with pine boughs scenting the air with their sharp, spicy perfume.

"Oi, Angel, what's all this then?" he asked. Privately, he thought it was lovely, but it wouldn't do to voice that outloud. He was a demon, for Satan's sake!

"Oh, good morning, dear boy! And Happy Christmas!" Aziraphale looked up from the blankets in front of the fire, where he was stringing popcorn and cranberries to make a garland.

"Christmas? What are you going on about? You know Yeshua wasn't born in the winter. You were there, singing in all those infernal 'glorias' and 'be not afraids'. So just what exactly are you celebrating?"

"I know, dear. But this is when London celebrates family and love and hope and there's a dreadful blizzard going on outside. I thought it would be a fun way to pass the day."

Crowley walked over to warm his hands by the fire, his hips keeping time to his internal samba beat. After he was a bit warmer, he carefully and slowly tucked the edge of his shirt inside his kilt, pretending not to notice the angel avidly drinking in every movement.

He turned slowly and looked at the transfixed angel. "So," he asked, "we're stuck inside together? All day?"

Aziraphale silently nodded, his hands still and the garland forgotten in his lap.

"No chance of interruption?"

Aziraphale gulped, licked his lips nervously, bit his bottom lip, and shook his head.

Crowley licked his lips with relish, staring at the angel as if trying to decide where to begin devouring him. "Hmmm," he growled. "Trapped with my hereditary enemy with no means to escape. And only one bed! Whatever shall I do?" He dropped to his hands and knees and crept towards the frozen angel.

Pitching his voice low and seductive, Crowley purred, "Whatever can we do to pass the time?" He snuggled up to Aziraphale's shoulder and whispered, "I have a few ideas. Some sweet, naughty ideas." And he licked his tongue along the shell of Aziraphale's ear and then nipped his earlobe.

Aziraphale yipped in surprise, then closed his eyes and moaned. Crowley moved the bowl of popcorn and the garland from the angel's lap and settled himself there instead.

"C-C-Crowley, I…:

"Shhh, Angel. I know. Seven more days. Doesn't mean we can't have some fun while we wait. Build the anticipation…" And he licked a hot, wet line up Aziraphale's neck and sucked on his jaw. "Explore some possibilities…." And he slowly unlaced Aziraphale's tunic. "Nibble new areas…" He pushed aside the linen and flicked his long tongue across the pink nipple nestled in the soft, curly white hairs.

Aziraphale shuddered and grabbed Crowley's hair, tugging him down to his chest and begging, "yes! Oh, please, yes, Crowley!"

Crowley grinned as he lowered his angel down to the blankets. Aziraphale so loved his pleasure. It didn't take much to kick him up into high gear. The only tricky bit was dancing the line to please them both without spiralling the angel into guilt afterward. Aziraphale always felt it made him less of an angel, but Crowley loved how he dove face-first into new pleasures and claimed them for his own.

He wrapped his long-fingered hands around Aziraphale's face, cradling him gently. He took his time with this kiss, savoring the softness of the angel's lips. When Aziraphale started to tremble, he licked along the angel's bottom lip and Aziraphale gave him entrance with a moan. Crowley slipped in slowly, tasting the sleek cheek walls, dancing with the sweetness of Aziraphale's questing tongue, and exploring the arch at the roof of his mouth.

The angel beneath him started pulling his carefully tucked shirt out from his kilt, desperately needing to touch. Crowley reached back and grabbed Aziraphale’s wrists, pinning them over his head with just enough roughness to show he was serious.

“Crowley!” the angel whined and squirmed. “I want...I need….” he pled with those deep, stormy eyes and Crowley felt himself weakening.

“No,” he said firmly. “I want. I need. But you say to wait. So let’s set some boundaries before we get into things so I know where to stop. Because I don’t want to stop, Angel. I want it all. I need all of you. So tell me first how much...how far.”

"Touch if it's uncovered," the angel panted. "Shirts can come off. Bottoms...stay on." And he groaned at having to follow his own rules.

"Frottage?"

"What?"

"This, Aziraphale." And Crowley ground his hips up along the angel's, rubbing them together and making them both gasp as molten pleasure set them ablaze.

"Oh, God, Crowley! Do that again!"

Crowley nuzzled into Aziraphale's neck, gently nipping as he slowly pulled his hips back and ground them again, while the angel whimpered into Crowley's ear.

"Stop a minute," the angel begged. "I want our shirts off. I need to touch you...touch your skin...taste you."

Crowley sat up, straddling Aziraphale and rocking against him as he quickly pulled off his shirt and threw it aside. Scooting back a bit, he said, "Right then, Angel. Up you come."

Crowley ran his hands up Aziraphale's chest, gathering his shirt as he went, then pulling it over and off.

"Ah, Angel," he breathed, "you are so beautiful!"

Aziraphale blushed and replied, "But look at you, my dear. Sheer perfection!"

"S'not perfect," the demon snapped. "I have this stupid scar now." He ran his finger along the two inch line on his right side.

"Oh, I don't think it's stupid at all! In fact, I find it very comely. Battle wounds and all. Very...sexy." And Aziraphale leaned over and licked along the scar.

"Satan, Aziraphale!" Crowley moaned. "Do that again!"

"Not if you're going to talk like that, demon," the angel sniffed. "Keep a civil tongue, or I'll have to wrap it in my own!"

"Hell's bells, Aziraphale. How're'ya gonna lick my side and my tongue?"

"Which do you prefer?"

"I'd prefer you licking something a wee bit lower than my scar, but since that's not on the table, come kiss me, O Enemy Mine."

The angel gave a smug smile, wrapped his arms around the demon's neck, and kissed him fiercely; wild and wet and oh, so hot. He pulled Crowley back down on top of him and groaned his pleasure as skin met skin.

Crowley broke the kiss with a gasp and, despite Aziraphale's whimpers, traveled down to taste the pink nipples longing for attention. The whimpers changed to moans as the demon sucked and licked the tiny bits into points of pleasure. The hands clutching at Crowley's back grew desperate, digging in and leaving crescents across his shoulder blades.

Crowley continued his descent, kissing and nibbling on his angel's sweet belly. Aziraphale wiggled and panted and gasped as the demon went lower and lower. He wrapped his hands tightly in the auburn waves, urging him ever down. When he got to the waist of Aziraphale's trousers, Crowley stopped, resting his cheek against the firm hardness poking at him and begging to be freed.

Then he reluctantly started back up, dragging his torso up in a long, slow stroke against that hardness that made the angel keen in a mixture of delight and frustration. Claiming Aziraphale's lips once more, Crowley began rutting in earnest, barely able to keep control of himself.

Aziraphale wrapped his legs around Crowley's hips and drew himself tight into every stroke. The two layers between them hardly registered against the heat of the building friction.

"Aziraphale! God...Satan...oh, stars above, you feel so damn good!"

"Crowley, my love, my passion...I'm...I'm…." and the angel tensed as his world exploded and Crowley's eyes were the only things he could see.

The demon howled, and with two more strokes, came collapsing into a haze of love that flowed from inside him and was endlessly echoed by the angel below him. Time blurred away and they floated in a big pool of happy, entwined together.

^o0o^

That night, Crowley couldn't get comfortable in his bed. It had probably been the best day of his life. They had finished stringing and hanging garlands, and then they made out again. Aziraphale had taught him how to knit, and then they made out again. Crowley had taught Aziraphale some basic chords on his lute and then they made out again.

After going to bed, he laid there and replayed the day, ending in an intense wanking session. He had to clean his kilt for the fifth time that day. Might be time for some new clothes.

Even after he finished, he couldn't sleep. He felt like his skin was on fire and nothing could cool the flames. He shrugged out of his clothes and tossed them on the floor, flopping down on top of the quilt. He tossed for a while, then tried the wall. Sometimes it was easier to sleep at a different angle. His thoughts of Aziraphale kept intruding, so he climbed higher until he was on the ceiling over his bed. Still unable to sleep, he gave up and fell from the ceiling onto his back with a loud WHOMP.

A moment later, a very fierce looking angel charged into the room, searching for the source of the noise and ready to defend his demon.

"Whoa, Aziraphale! It was just me!"

"Are you certain? Are you alright, dear boy?" The angel satisfied himself that there was no danger present and turned back to look at Crowley. Then he froze. Crowley looked...delicious. He was naked and aroused; his hair a disheveled mess falling in his face.

"Oh," Aziraphale said softly, and started towards the bed like he was walking in a dream. He unlaced his tunic as he walked and pulled it off, dropping it carelessly to the floor. Crowley sat up, startled by the raw need on Aziraphale's face.

"Angel? Are you...alright?" he asked shakily.

"Hmmm. Just tickety boo," the angel replied as he undid the laces on his trousers, sliding them and his pants into a puddle at his feet. He smiled at Crowley as he kicked them away and closed the distance to the bed.

"Slight change of plans, though, my dear. Waiting is stupid. I am done with being stupid."

Crowley watched, stunned, as his whole world came and knelt at his feet. There was a word for how he felt. Ah, yes. Gobsmacked. Like someone had hit him across his face, leaving him stunned and speechless.

As Aziraphale sank to his knees in front of the bed, he scooted Crowley over so he was nestled between his knees. “Is this for me, dearest?” he asked, looking up at Crowley’s face, so full of need and love, he was almost glowing. "All for me?"

Crowley still found it impossible to speak and simply nodded, not truly believing it was real. Perhaps he had fallen asleep after all and this was just a dream. If so, he wasn’t going to do anything that might awaken him from it. He had seen that eager look on Aziraphale before when looking with delight at an elegantly prepared feast. It would seem he was what's on the menu.

Aziraphale gave a happy hum and wiggled. He was still humming as he slowly and carefully swallowed Crowley deep into the back of his throat. Crowley keened, grabbing the bed for support with one hand and wrapping the other in those short paper-white curls. Aziraphale moved his hands around to fill each with a firm arse cheek, squeezing as he hollowed his cheeks and sucked. Oh, how he enjoyed listening to the demon moaning and squirming above him!

Despite their activities of the day, this was new and exciting. They'd never touched each other like this; naked and wanting. Aziraphale's hands were hungry, longing to explore hitherto hidden nooks and crannies, devouring Crowley with his fingers and palms.

He moved back off, despite the demon's protesting moan, and crawled onto the bed, bringing Crowley back with him. He feasted on him with hungry eyes, trailing his fingers down Crowley's chest, mapping the dips and hills of his pelvis. He settled in between wide open and willing long legs and ran his hands up those firm, pale inner thighs, memorizing the feel of them.

"You are so gorgeous, darling. So good to me," the angel murmured as he began licking and sucking and nibbling his way slowly up one trembling thigh. Each nip was a little deeper; each suck pulling in a little more flesh a little longer. Crowley startled and gasped with each bite as Aziraphale moved closer and closer to his needy, leaking cock.

When he reached the top, Aziraphale licked a long, hot line up from the demon’s balls, along the velvety soft skin covering the achingly hard shaft, and swirling along the tip to capture all the precum leaking there. So many different textures to enjoy! “Mmmm...so yummy...from head to toe, you are my favorite treat, my dear!” He crawled up to look down at Crowley’s eyes, blown all black and gold.

“I love you, Crowley. You’re handsome and kind and…” before he could get another word out, Crowley rolled him over on his back and loomed over him with a growl.

“‘M not kind! I’m a demon! Now, shut it, angel! I aim to have you. Enough waiting!”

“Mmmm,” said the angel happily, not a bit put out. “I expect you’ll be needing this, then.” He held out his hand, warm golden oil cupped in the palm.

Crowley laughed and dipped his fingers in the oil. “Well, aren’t you the resourceful one!” he chuckled. He stroked the oil up his cock, eyes closing in pleasure. Then he dipped his fingers back to get the rest of the oil to use on Aziraphale.

Aziraphale moaned as Crowley massaged the oil at his entrance, the warmth of the oil and the gentle, circling pressure relaxing him. He startled a bit as the demon first dipped a finger pass the ring of muscles, but relaxed again as Crowley kissed a line up his neck and nibbled his ear. “You’re doing fine, luv,” the demon murmured. “No hurry. We have all night. Want to make it good for you”

“Oh, Crowley, it does feel good. Just keep going, you gorgeous boy.” 

With a quick nip on Aziraphale’s shoulder, Crowley lifted Aziraphale’s leg onto his shoulder and went back to working his way deeper and deeper inside.

By the time he had three fingers in, stroking that sweet bundle of nerves, Aziraphale was a mewling, trembling mess. Crowley wasn't much better. His body reacted to the angel's moans and cries like they were physical caresses. He gently removed his fingers and lined them up.

"Ready, Angel?" he gasped.

"Oh! Oh, God, yes! Please, please, please!" Aziraphale panted, too far gone to be more coherent. 

Slowly, carefully, savoring every sensation, Crowley buried himself inside. Oh, that snug warmth gripping him tightly! Despite imagining it countless times over thousands of years, reality was even better.

He grabbed a handful of cotton-soft curls and kissed Aziraphale deeply, swallowing his moans. Aziraphale gripped his arms tightly and dug his heel into Crowley's back, pulling them even closer together. Crowley rocked his hips slowly and stroked back in with a swing to his hips that made Aziraphale cry out and grab a fist full of copper locks, tugging and urging him on.

Crowley reached down between them, claiming Aziraphale's cock and stroking it in time to his slow, steady thrusts. He nipped down Aziraphale's neck, but his control was waning as he was drawing closer and closer to climaxing. He settled on Aziraphale's shoulder, sinking his teeth in as he picked up the pace.

Aziraphale babbled underneath him, finally settling on crying his name over and over. "Crowley! Oh, oh, Crowley!" It was the sweetest angel song the demon had ever heard.

"I'm close, Angel. Come for me now, luv," Crowley cried, releasing the pale sweet shoulder before he drew blood. Looking down, he could see the double crescent from his teeth emblazoned on the angel's skin and it drove him teetering, dancing on a sword's edge to keep from going over first.

"Crooowleey!" Aziraphale screamed as he came and his world went white and silent, every nerve crackling with intense pleasure. Crowley followed him over the edge in a fall so very different from that one long ago. His howl was full of joy and triumph and completeness; full of all the things demons were not supposed to feel. But when had he ever followed the rules?

When he came back to his surroundings, Crowley smiled down at the resting angel, his eyes closed and a contented smile lighting up his face. Aziraphale opened his eyes, now as blue as a warm summer's day, and reached up to cup Crowley's cheek.

"My demon?" he asked softly.

"Mmmhmm," Crowley replied. "My angel?"

"So it would seem, my dear boy. Whomever would have thought?" Aziraphale sighed contentedly and drew Crowley down into a long, slow kiss. Reluctantly, he moved his leg off Crowley and Crowley slipped out, waving them both clean.

Crowley nestled into Aziraphale's shoulder and saw the angel wince a bit. Lifting his head, he looked at his tooth marks and the rapidly blossoming bruise and whistled softly.

"Sorry about that, Angel. Let me take care of that for you," he said, lifting his hand to heal it.

"Don't you dare!" Aziraphale said, batting his hand down. "I like it when you mark me...claim me. I imagine your thigh isn't in much better shape."

Crowley looked down and grinned at the purple-dark trail of bruises on his leg. "See what you mean. I wouldn't let you get rid of them, either."

He crawled over the angel slowly, enjoying the rub of their bodies. Then he snuggled into the unmarked shoulder. “That’s better,” he said, smiling contentedly. Crowley traced his fingers across Aziraphale’s chest, learning the way of it; the soft, curly white chest hair, the soft security of his belly, and the thin line of down leading to his cock, which was beginning to perk up again with interest.

Crowley chuckled. “Really, Angel? You need more already?”

“Well,” the angel said, kissing the top of Crowley’s head and breathing in his scent, “I have been hungry for a very long time, my dear. It’s your own fault for being so tempting. How can I resist?”

“That’s right! Bad, evil demon here, tempting you to give into your carnal desires!” Crowley growled. Then his voice softened and he stared up into those changeling eyes, darkened to ocean blue with desire. “Except...not really, ya know. Because it’s not just bumping uglies because it feels good. Angel, I-I-I….”

Aziraphale lifted his eyebrows and waited patiently, refusing to help him out this time. Crowley needed to say it and Aziraphale needed to hear it. Crowley took a deep breath.

“I...love you, Angel. Don’t know how or why it’s happened. Certainly wasn’t supposed to. Demons aren’t supposed to love anything or anyone. Supposed to be burnt clear out of us from our Fall. Her fault, likely. Thought it would be interesting to leave a bit of love in me and fix it on the most unattainable creature imaginable. An angel, for Hell’s sake! But...you love me, too?”

“I do,” the angel said quietly.

“That’s alright then. Though I guess it’s to be expected, what with you loving everything and all.”

“Crowley! That is not it at all! Do you think I give myself to every creature that feels a bit lonely and needs cheering up?!”

“Ummm...no?”

“No, you foolish fiend! I am in love with you, Crowley. You, and only you, hold that spot in my heart. Now, are we going to continue talking or are you going to use that tongue for more pleasant pursuits?”

“Aww. Angel, are you asking me to suck you off?” Crowley asked with a lopsided grin.

Aziraphale blushed, but replied, “Obviously! Now, get to it, if you don’t mind!”

“Ach, such a bossy angel! MY bossy angel, though,” Crowley smirked and then got busy scratching Aziraphale’s four-thousand-year itch.It was quite some time before they went to sleep, sated and happy, wrapped in each other’s arms.


	4. The Sudden Stop

Crowley had been blissfully asleep, dreaming of a picnic with Aziraphale, when a buzzing noise and the smell of sulfur brought him instantly awake. Casting about the room, he detected no one and relaxed a little. Then the moon peeked out enough to show a black envelope on the stand next to the bed. His heart sank as he picked it up and held it.

He quietly slipped out of bed and into the main room so he could light a lamp without disturbing Aziraphale. He paused at the door to look back at the angel sleeping peacefully, a small smile playing on his rosey lips. He had never seen Aziraphale sleep before, but the previous day and night had been rather...strenuous. He grinned for a moment, but it faded as he glanced down at the envelope in his hand.

Sitting at Aziraphale’s work table, he stared at the letter in disbelief and read it again. A commendation. With a ceremony and a medal from Lord Beelzebub themself. He had to be back in Hell that evening for the pomp and circumstance. For what? Fucking an angel!!!

How did they know? Were they being observed? It would seem so. But how? Crowley growled and paced around the room trying to figure out what to do next. Fucking an angel got him a bloody commendation. But loving an angel? He’d be kicked to the pits for eternity! And if Heaven found out, what would they do to Aziraphale? Would they make him Fall because of his love for Crowley? He could think of only one way to get Heaven and Hell off their trail, but it might just kill him. 

He thought of Aziraphale lying snuggled close with that sun-shaming smile on his face and realized he would risk it. He would risk anything to keep his angel safe.

“Crowley? What are you doing out here?” Aziraphale asked, coming out of the bedroom wrapped in a blanket. Crowley turned and went back to the table, scribbling a note on the letter.

“Check it out, angel,” he crowed with an evil grin. “I got me a commendation! They’re having a big ceremony in Hell tonight for me.”

“Oh?” Aziraphale tried to puzzle out what was happening.”For what, my dear? What did you do?”

Crowley shoved the letter into Aziraphale’s hands and laughed. “Why, for doing you, you silly angel!”

Aziraphale felt like Crowley had punched him in the gut. The letter fluttered unread to the floor.

“What? What did you say, my love?” His voice seemed to come from far away.

Crowley bent and picked up the letter, pushing it back into Aziraphale’s limp hands.

“Go on, Aziraphale,” he chortled. “Read it!”

Aziraphale lowered his stunned eyes to the paper. There, scrawled over the words, was a note in Crowley’s spiked handwriting.  **_Banish me. Save us both_ ** **.**

“ Crowley? I don’t understand…”

“‘I don’t understand’” the demon mimicked cruelly. “Then let me spell it out, angel.” He manifested his night black wings and spread them wide. ”I’m a demon! I don’t  _ love _ . You knew that and you fell for it anyway. So Hell is going to celebrate and I’m the fucking guest of honor. Unless you’d like to come as my date? I’m sure that would be a big hit down there.”

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes and re-read the note. His brain finally caught up, pushing his emotions aside for the moment. 

“Crowley. You don’t have to do this. You don’t want to push me this way,” he warned, steeling himself for what was about to happen.

“I’ll push you any way I want, lover boy,” the demon snarled and shoved Aziraphale’s shoulder. He leaned in close and whispered, “Always, Angel.” Aziraphale backed up and let his rage at Hell and his anguish for Crowley radiate around him. .

“So be it, demon! It’s time you learned that Heaven is not to be trifled with!” Aziraphale manifested his true form. The room filled with wings and eyes and divine light, causing Crowley to back up, cowering and covering his eyes from the pain of the holiness in front of him.

“Demon Crowley,” came a thunderous voice from the center of the glowing figure, “I, Aziraphale, Principality of the Lord and Guardian of the Eastern Gate, do banish you from my sight for the next thousand years! Begone, Evil One! Return thee to the pits of Hell and away from me!”

With a crack of lightning, Crowley was gone. A lone black feather fluttered to the floor. Aziraphale returned to his earthly corporation and sobbed. A thousand years! He wouldn’t see Crowley again for a thousand years. But Hell would be satisfied that Crowley had tempted him. And Heaven would be satisfied that he had smote him. They would survive. Maybe. Perhaps.

Aziraphale picked up the feather and miracled permanence into it. He kissed it, breathing in the blend of spice and smoke that was Crowley. Then he tucked it into the drawer of his table. He returned to the bedroom and slowly dressed.

As he dressed, he despaired. Once again he wondered, what was the point? To be given such a gift, such a blessing, and then to have it snatched away before they could even properly savor it? He looked at the rumpled bed, remembering the love they had made hours before. And, despite his anguish, the memory warmed and comforted him. Was it love? Was that the point of it all? Must be, he thought.

He left the room and snapped, returning the house to its bedroomless state. He started packing away his book and writing tools. In the morning, he would visit Briennah and tell her he would be traveling for a bit. He couldn’t bear the thought of spending New Year’s there without Crowley. It would be good to be away from London for a bit. Long enough for these humans to forget him and new humans to take their place.

The next evening, he prepared to leave. He tucked the long, black feather and the letter from Hell with Crowley’s note into the box with his writing tools. He thought perhaps he’d visit a monastery and continue his transcription work. He took out a piece of paper and wrote his own note, leaving it on the table in case Crowley returned to look.  _ Always. Love, A.  _ Then he brought his wings back into this plane and plucked a long, white primary, setting it next to the note.

He secured the cottage so no humans could enter. With one last look around, he sighed and snapped his fingers, heading to Italy. The winter had no appeal for him any longer. He would spend some time in the golden sunlight of Tuscany and gather himself for the long, lonely millenium ahead.

^o0o^

Twenty-three years later, a demon stood in the dusty cottage and looked around sadly. He had spent years in Hell, pretending to party and shine and enjoy the relative stardom his commendation had given him. When alone in the cubicle his fame had earned him, he would think of Aziraphale and that Christmas day. When he returned to Earth with a new assignment three years ago, he could close his eyes and feel for the angel. He couldn’t visit him, but he felt better just knowing Aziraphale was still here on Earth, alive and well. He knew he was not in London, but that was fine. He couldn’t go near him yet anyway. But the cottage called to him, so he made the trip like a pilgrimage, revisiting the site where he had found love.

A gleam of white caught his eye, and he walked over to the table. When he saw what was there, he smiled and gathered the items like the treasures they were. Always, Aziraphale had written. So he had heard Crowley’s desperate whisper and knew his demon’s heart was true. A thousand years was a long time to wait, but they were immortal. And he would see if he could find a work-around...a loophole. Maybe he could be near Aziraphale as long as the angel didn’t see him. Maybe he could send an occasional note. He was a resourceful, imaginative demon. He would find a way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. The ending is sad, but they have a long way to go still before they can stay together. Let me know what you think. This is the first story I've written with a sad ending.


End file.
